Cold blows the wind to my true love,
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And gently drops the rain.
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I've never had but one true love,
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And in green-wood he lies slain.
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I'll do as much for my true love,
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As any young girl may,
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I'll sit and mourn all on his grave,
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For twelve months and a day.
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And when twelve months and a day was passed,
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The ghost did rise and speak,
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"Why sittest thou all on my grave
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And will no let me sleep?"
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"Go fetch me water from the desert,
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And blood from out the stone,
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Go fetch me milk from a fair maid's breast
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That young man never has known."
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"How oft on yonder grave, sweetheart,
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Where we were want to walk,
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The fairest flower that e'er I saw
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Has withered to a stalk."
|
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"A stalk has withered and dead, sweetheart,
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The flower will never return,
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And since I've lost my own true love,
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What can I do but yearn."
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"When will we meet again, sweetheart,
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When will we meet again?"
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"When the autumn leaves that fall from the trees
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Are green and spring up again."
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The Unquiet Grave
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| Joan Baez |
